Herbology and Potions
by Mr Bellatrix Lestrange
Summary: What do people think of when the hear the name 'Neville Longbottom' As opposed to 'Draco Malfoy'


**A/N: I seriously had to ask my friend what a 'once-over' was. **

**R&R if you love me!**

**(Don't love me ;) **

What do people think of when they hear the name 'Neville Longbottom?' The words lame, or coward, lump, droll, wimpy, uncool, not a looker. Stuff like that. And whose to say they're wrong? All those accurate words apply. Let's just say it's never where he wanted to be.

'Draco Malfoy?'

Hot. Blonde. Powerful. Captivating. Hot. Sexy. Everything. Nothing.

That was more like it.

He was all that in one.

So you could see the appeal, right?

Neville could.

That was why he fell, a smash-crash landing at that, but he knew it wouldn't be a graceful ballerina landing either. And thank Merlin it wasn't, because it was Draco, and there was no comparison.

There wasn't a soul alive at Hogwarts, thought Neville (desperately/heart-achingly), that hadn't at least fallen for Draco- the Malfoy heir- once. Everyone had done it. It was a crush. It would fade.

In the meantime...

Well, was it so bad to indulge?

He didn't think so.

Watching Draco in the halls and courtyards. Joint classes. Dinner.

Have you ever? It was like watching something from a fantasy, except the edges weren't foggy like that dream-like manner. He could've been sleeping. He did have to pinch himself occasionally.

Draco Malfoy. Mr Malfoy. Mr Neville Longbottom-Malfoy. Draco Longbottom.

Things like that crept up on him daily, slinking out of the corners of his mind to torment him. He wouldn't MARRY the man, probably never date him or even have an actual conversation with him. They were just the longful hopes of a broken boy. He'd never get past.

Everyone joked that Draco was a fairy. All the Gryffindor guys. And Neville sort of just laughed too, not to be out cast, but were they right?

Hopefully.

He swung his hips. He painted his nails.

He was beautiful.

Even...now. In the dim of the potions light, hazy in the classroom, two rows ahead. He looked so pretty from behind, intrigued by his potion and working at something to be proud of.

Neville felt that way about plants and Herbology.

He felt they shard one sliver of something alike.

Him and Draco.

Draco and him.

Before he knew it, he was staring hard and fast at the blonde. Eyes boring into his back. And well, that naturally led too...

"And what is this SUPPOSED to be, Longbottom?" Snape sneered from somewhere far above.

That.

He couldn't help but blush.

What if Draco turned around?

"Uh..."

"Well well well. Once again Longbottom fails to meet the required standards of the simple art of potion-making. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Hermione sent him an apologetic glance. Dean and Seamus huffed silently. But by the time Neville had gathered up the courage to look up to the head table, Draco had turned back around, his shoulders shaking haughtily in the ghost of a laugh.

How embarrassing.

And he'd even missed the glance worth all his trouble.

Silver.

Draco'd turned back around, Snape's back to them both, smirking at Neville.

His eyes were silver.

A penciled brow upturned. 'You're staring.' He mouthed.

Well Neville couldn't stop looking at those prominent lips now.

It was a sin to try.

Neville felt dumb.

Draco stopped looking.

It was sixty seconds more attention then he could've ever asked for.

His face burned comfortably the rest of class.

xxx

He mulled around the Black Lake. He'd bee-lined out of the dungeons as soon as dismissal; he was hopeless but he wasn't courageous or ambitious. Why was he even in Gryffindor?

Blonde hair imprinted on his eyelids.

No one would find him here.

At least...

"You're stalking me now Longbottom?"

Unexpected

The boy- so...much- standing by an out-of-peripheral-view tree. Neville would have never known of its existence had the pale angel not been under it. But he was alone. And he didn't seem to be engaged in whatever book he possessed. So.

His blond sleek hair polished off his forehead, his eyes holding a secret- excitement? He was so lean and breathtaking, propped against the barky trunk by a foot. He'd shed his school robes and wore not but his white undershirt and Slytherin tie, black pants and shoes. He was a delicious subtlety waiting to be devoured.

What an androgynous man.

Neville could've cried.

Could've.

Draco stalked over. Slowly. Drawing out the pain of the task. Each swing of the hips. He burned.

And then, in a few short breaths, the blonde was towering over him. Neville bit the inside of his cheek. He felt like squeaking. Draco took him in, giving him the once-over.

What were his thoughts?

Neville felt like a disappointment.

"Fair enough."

Fair.

Like, fair hair. Or fair, like bad fair. As in 'you'll do' or 'not what I'm looking for.' Possibly, 'almost?'

He wasn't left in much anticipation.

Their lips met.

On those silky lips, wet and soft and pressing. His tongue asking- demanding- entrance. And grazing his teeth, clashing inside. Neville didn't have much choice but to leave it to Draco- which he would've done willingly anyways.

And he was just as good as imagined.

Definitely a fairy.

But, well.

His long hands came up to grab Neville's face. Rough. Neville shrunk. The hands worked their way around his face, playing his cheeks. Then they crept into his hair, and pushed him against an opposing tree.

Neville knew where this was going.

His face turned the same color of his tie.

"Oh, backing out are we?" Draco asked, daring. He didn't sound nearly as breathless as Neville felt. He was just a pawn.

"N-no." Of course not. Never. Not in my wildest dreams. How could I? Impossible.

A laugh. But it was almost tense. Like he wanted this just as bad.

He released the pudgy boy. Ran a hand down his abdomen. Ran the length of his own zipper. And...

Fished out that slippery unattainable cock.

Neville's jumped in his trousers.

He was incredibly hard.

And this was happening.

A smirk pulled Draco's lips again. He stroked his shaft. Once. Twice. Precome wet the head and he smeared it along his length. He was completely pale, even the vein- usually so noticeable in times like these- didn't show.

It was mouth-watering.

And realization flooding in the form of "I'm watching Draco Malfoy jack-off."

But well.

With his other whitened hand he palmed Neville through the thin veil of cloth. Oh, he'd never gotten that before. A deep moan pulled free from somewhere deep in his throat.

"That's right." Draco purred. His stoking continued.

In one fluid motion his own cock stood at attention in Draco's hand. His smooth hand in pulls against the rough pulsing dick, red and about ready. Begging.

Then Draco put the two together.

Like oh.

Their heads kissed, rubbing the salty liquids and increasing the overall need. The Slytherin let out a moan as well. Neville bit his cheek harder and drew blood. He watched as Draco's hand worked between them, wrapping around the both.

Spider-like it rubbed back and forth, sideways, squeezing. Making coming the number one priority. At least in Neville's mind. He could scream his frustration.

Could.

Malfoy would've appreciated it.

But it didn't matter because the friction caused by the two cocks sent hims over the edge faster than you can SAY 'Malfoy.'

And the come spread, in his hands and on his black pants, both of theirs. Hot, thick. But Draco wasn't disgusted. He came too, choking something incomprehensible but coming. Both hard and clean. Sticky, slimy. So good.

White spots formed on the inside of Neville's brain like sparklers.

Draco Malfoy-Longbottom.

Draco pulled him onto the floor where he collapsed, hand still feathery between their dicks, come drying on his hand and semen stains on his pants.

Perfection.

He brought the hand to his lips, licked some of either of their come.

Sexy.

Slowly their breathing returned to normal. Neville almost didn't want it to, having it signify the end of whatever THIS was.

"Not a soul finds out, you hear?" He sounded playful far behind his threatening tone. Then he began stuffing his limp cock back into his trousers, and Neville followed suit. But he couldn't stop staring.

He nodded his head.

But Malfoy didn't say anything like 'fooled you' or 'I'm turning you in for sexual harassment' or any of the other terrible things swimming in Neville's head a mile a minute.

Fair.

"S-so what was this?" Listening to Draco's powerful voice made his sound so much less in comparison. He barely had the courage to ask, but if Draco decided it was a one-time deal he would be okay. He'd collected sufficient memories.

"Experimenting." Was the reply.

He could live with that.

It was open for interpretation.

Like 'this might just happen again.'

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Draco started as he got to his feet once more. "But this might just happen again."

Wow.

More than fair.

And with that he started walking away from their secluded cove, a swish of the hips. Neville would've thought he was the same old person had he not glanced back at Neville, a one-hundred-percent genuine smile on his face, those pale lips.

And then he was gone.

Neville sighed contentedly.

He nudged a book in the grass.

He almost got up to chase after the blonde, but decided on 'next time.'

Hope.

He flipped it open.

Herbology?

Draco Longbottom-Malfoy.

Fair enough.


End file.
